


Birthday Boy

by ikeracity, Pangea



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, erik is sneaky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikeracity/pseuds/ikeracity, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pangea/pseuds/Pangea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik have dinner at a fancy restaurant for Charles' birthday. Erik has a surprise planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cakeis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cakeis/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [Birthday Boy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2036892) by [Glacier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glacier/pseuds/Glacier)



> I promised this porn for cake ages ago and finally finished it with pan's help. Actually, pan finished it for me because she's gr9 at porn. :D THANKS, PAN. 
> 
> HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, CAKEY.

Charles should have known how quickly downhill (or uphill—on second thought, most definitely _uphill_ ) this night was going to go from the minute Erik slithered from his seat and disappeared underneath the tablecloth when no one else was looking. Surprised and confused, Charles simply sat there for a long moment, staring at the now-empty seat across from him. _Uh...Erik?_  

Then he felt a hand on his knee. Then another hand on his other knee, spreading his legs apart. And then he felt Erik’s teeth against his fly, latching onto his zipper and _tugging_ , and he had to bite down hard on his lip to keep from yelping in indignation and shock and— _fuck_ —hot lust that shot straight down his spine into his cock.

 _What the hell are you_ —

 _Hush, Charles._ Erik sounded unbearably smug, even in his head. His finger followed the zipper, pulling Charles’ pants wider open and just very lightly caressing the line of his hardening erection through his boxers. Charles clenched his hands tightly around his silverware and forced himself to breathe normally. One breath in, one breath out. One in, one out. One—

“Fuck,” Charles said, nearly inaudibly, as Erik curled the fingers of his other hand around the waistband of his boxers and pulled slowly downwards. Oh, he was going to do this. They were really going to do this, in the middle of a crowded, elegant restaurant with an elderly couple sitting ten feet from them and a couple of businessmen chatting within earshot. Charles set his fork and knife down carefully, reached down pretending to adjust the napkin in his lap, and grabbed Erik’s hand, which was in the process of dragging his boxers down far enough to pull out his cock.

 _What are you doing?_ Charles demanded. _We’re in_ — _Christ, Erik, we’re in public._

 _Hush,_ Erik replied. _Act natural._

 _Act natural?! When you’re_ —

He hissed out a startled breath as he felt a gentle, wet pressure through the fabric of his boxers—Erik’s tongue, drawing tiny circles up the now-stiff length of his dick. Erik was _licking_ him underneath the table and Charles couldn’t believe how bold he was being, or how insanely turned on he was in that moment. Erik was hard, too; Charles could feel his arousal pulsing between them, heated and sharper than Charles’, but no less heady. Oh God. Erik had been planning this. He’d been thinking about this all night and he’d managed to hide it from Charles somehow, and now he was broadcasting his intentions, loud as anything. Charles clenched one hand on Erik’s through the napkin and the other on the side of the white tablecloth.

 _Let me go,_ Erik whispered, wiggling his fingers to coax Charles’ grip open. _Come now, schatz. Don’t be difficult._

 _Oh God,_ Charles thought back. _We’re going to get caught_. But he let go anyway, retaining enough presence of mind to pick up his fork and act as if he were pushing his pasta around on his plate. He tried desperately to ignore what was happening beneath him, but it was impossible: Erik had freed his cock from his pants now and had his fist curled around it as near to its base as he could with the zipper teeth in the way. Almost involuntarily, Charles canted his hips up a bit so Erik could tug his pants down a little further. In the same motion, he pulled the tablecloth a little higher onto his lap, covering both the napkin and Erik’s unobtrusive movements. They were going to get caught. They were so going to get caught, and they were going to be ejected from the grounds and summarily banned from this establishment forever and ever and that was a damn shame because this was Charles’ favorite formal restaurant this side of Manhattan, and Erik had better give him the _best_ blowjob ever known to man to make that sort of embarrassment even _remotely_ bearable.

As if he’d heard that thought, Erik sucked Charles down whole, pushing Charles into the tightness of his mouth in such a sudden, smooth motion that Charles nearly screamed, in as much shock as pleasure. He gripped the tablecloth so tightly that his knuckles cracked, and Erik’s wicked amusement washed across Charles’ mind in a sharp wave. _You all right?_

 _Am I all right,_ Charles huffed. _No, I’m not all_ —

“Can I refill your wine, sir?”

He managed, just barely, not to jerk violently. Somehow, he looked up without breaking into a cold sweat at the thought of being discovered with his husband’s mouth on his cock. “No,” he said, enunciating carefully. It almost came out as a moan because Erik was _still moving_ , his tongue swirling gently around the head of Charles’ erection, lapping at the pre-come beading at his tip. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Charles’ expression must have looked strained because the young waiter lingered, his brow creasing. “Are you all right, sir? You’re looking a little pale.”

“I...um…”

 _Yes, Charles,_ Erik thought maddeningly, moving to lick a slow stripe up the underside of Charles’ dick. His hand rubbed up and down Charles’ right thigh, massaging at the muscles that tensed at his touch. _Are you all right?_

 _I hate you_ , Charles thought peevishly. Aloud, he said, “Yes, I’m quite all right.”

The waiter turned and looked at the empty chair quizzically. Charles heard the question before the boy voiced it out loud, and answered quickly, “He’s in the bathroom. He had to run to the bathroom.”

“Oh. Okay, then. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” _Go, go, go,_ he thought, and he wasn’t sure if it was his telepathy or simply something urgent in his face that sent the waiter scurrying away. Charles let out a sigh of relief and tensed again immediately as Erik began to press tiny, feather-light kisses to the sides of his cock. _Erik_ , he groaned, _if you’re going to do it, just—_

 _Get it over with?_ Erik asked innocently, his tongue swirling around the head of Charles’ cock. Charles could hear the small wet sounds from beneath the table, so loud to him that he wondered how the entire restaurant couldn’t hear it as well. _Where’s the fun in that?_

Charles started to reply, the thought already half-formed in his mind, but then Erik sucked the head of his cock into his mouth and pressed his tongue right against the slit, tonguing him mercilessly while radiating satisfaction. Charles aborted a shout at the last possible second, clamping his teeth down on his lower lip and slamming his elbows down on top of the table loudly enough to make their plates and silverware rattle. It earned him an odd look from the elderly couple, but Charles quickly pressed his fingers against his temples in the mimicry of fending off a migraine.

 _You could use your telepathy_ , Erik suggested, and Charles felt his husband’s chill of pleasure at the thought of Charles putting his power on display. He flattened his tongue on the underside of Charles’ dick, sliding Charles’ aching arousal deeper into his mouth. _Make everyone not notice. It would be easy for you, liebling._

 _I am **not** using my telepathy on innocent people who are here trying to enjoy a nice dinner, _ Charles snarled _, just so you can suck me off underneath our table!_

 _It will be an exercise in self-control, then,_ Erik thought sagely, and then swallowed Charles whole again.

Charles grunted, muffled as possible as he breathed heavily through his nose. Erik’s mouth was wet and warm, all tight, heated suction as his broad hands spanned the width of Charles’ thighs to hold him open and still as he slid his lips further up Charles’ cock. Charles’ hips gave an involuntary twitch, the rest of him quivering with the effort of not giving in to the wave after wave of smug pleasure Erik projected at him. It was all too easy to picture Erik, and how he must look: crouched between Charles’ spread legs beneath the table, devilishly handsome in his tight-fit tux and obscene with his lips stretched wide around the girth of Charles’ thick cock. His eyes would be half-lidded in pleasure, the front of his perfectly tailored pants bulging outward with his own arousal. He would look like sin itself.

Erik squeezed his thighs, tugging him forward so that Charles’ ass perched precariously right on the edge of his chair, his sternum pressed up against the edge of the table almost uncomfortably close. Erik began to bob his head, the tablecloth moving minutely each time his forehead brushed against it. A white hot bolt of pleasure shot down Charles’ spine at the realization of how trapped he was, unable to close his legs with Erik’s warm body in between them but also unable to spread them any further because of his pants that were still only halfway down his legs—and unable to move at _all_ unless he wanted to make it very clear to the entire restaurant what was going on underneath the table.

 _Fuck_ , he groaned, fighting not to curl over on the spot, his shoulders already starting to hunch forward. Erik sent back a wordless feeling of contentment, his tongue curling beneath Charles’ dick with every backwards pull. Charles could only sit there and take it, balanced on the fine precipice of half-agreeing that yes, he _could_ use his telepathy to freeze time for everyone in the restaurant and then fuck Erik’s mouth like he truly, desperately wanted to, and half of him hot all over due to the fact that yes, they were having incredibly public sex right now.

 _I knew you had an exhibitionist streak a mile wide_ , Erik thought silkily, without missing a beat at the steady rhythm of sucking Charles’ cock.

_You—I’m going to—I’m—_

Even silently Charles sputtered, unable to concentrate long enough to form coherent thoughts as Erik deep throated him, sucking him all the way in. He could feel Erik’s nose brushing against his belly, but all he could focus on was the tight, constricting muscles of Erik’s throat, the head of his cock brushing against the back. His entire body quivered, hands falling down to the surface of the table and gripping the tablecloth tightly. His skin felt like he was on fire, burning alive with arousal, balls drawn up tight and aching and god he was _so close_ —

Erik slipped one hand up underneath him, dry finger pads brushing across Charles’ hole and thought loud and clear, _Come down my throat in the middle of this restaurant, darling_.

Charles bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood as he came and even then he was sure a tiny whimper still escaped, orgasm ripping through him almost painfully good, every last drop of pleasure wrung out of him in one fell swoop. Erik swallowed around him greedily, sucking down the white and sticky semen and holding Charles in his mouth as his cock softened. He slowly withdrew, lapping at the head of Charles’ spent cock to clean him up.

He slumped bonelessly back in his chair, liquefied by sweet release. He couldn’t even muster up a token protest at Erik’s gentle licks against his sensitive, post-orgasm skin, but his hips still twitched when long, clever fingers deftly tucked his soft cock back into his trousers and redid his fly.

Erik didn’t reappear for a few long moments; no doubt because he probably had to carefully maneuver his way back over to his own side of the table. A suave bastard as ever, he somehow managed to slide gracefully back up into his chair without anyone seeming to notice, looking for all the world like he really just did return from the restroom.

“Happy birthday,” he said pleasantly, taking a sip of water.  

Charles could only glare at him weakly from his slumped position, too blissed out for anything more.

“How are we doing, gentlemen?” Their waiter appeared, glancing briefly between Erik’s already empty plate and Charles’ half-full one. “Are we going to want a box for that? Can I interest you in our dessert menu?”

“No thank you,” Erik said, giving Charles a sly smirk as he wiped the corner of his slightly swollen mouth with one thumb, “I’ve already had mine.”


End file.
